


The Warlock's Law

by Calyss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, clothes as a political statement, potion shoenanigans, wand stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calyss/pseuds/Calyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow James Sirius Potter as he struggles with... Well, pretty much everything.</p><p>*on indefinite hiatus, i started posting this at a time i wasn't really into it anymore, it was a mistake*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eleven

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in Sept 2015, probably because I found it annoying how both the epilogue and the then only announced Cursed Child were focusing on Albus. It quickly took monstruous proportions (like everything I write *eyeroll*).  
> It's going to be pretty dark and pretty gay. You're warned (Tho I'll update the tags later).  
> Also, I don't know how regularly I'll post. I really suck at linear writing. I took me a reeeeaaally long time to write that first chapter when I have already pages of later stuff on paper.  
> Oh and keep in mind that I'm french so this may hurt your eyes sometimes... ("So why don't you write in french ?" "It hurts MY eyes.") Feel free to point any mistake you find.

 

 

_This is the journal of Alexander Perseus, heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass._

_8th of June, 2015 :_

_Father gave me this journal – among other gifts, like that really awesome broom that I will not even be able to take to school until next year, how unfair is that ? – for my eleventh birthday. He said that every wizard should have a dedicated place for his thoughts, the more common and the more extraordinary alike, and that one day it will be one of my most prized treasures._

_I've seen him write in his sometimes. It's a thick worned book and like mine it's charmed to never run out of pages, I suspect it will look like that one day. I think he uses it to take notes for his researches, but he said I can use it for whatever I like._

 

* * *

 

On a bright summer morning, James Potter was awaken by the noise of something tapping against his window.

Well, 'awaken' was maybe a bit of an exaggeration.

Mumbling through his disturbed sleep, the eleven year old boy buried himself deeper under the covers and tried to return to this odd but quite interesting dream he was having.

But the tapping resumed, louder and louder, until he could not ignore it any longer, and his dream was slipping out of his reach.

''Yeah, yeah, I'm awake...'' he said, yawning widely.

Looking up, he saw that the persistent noise's origin was a grey owl that looked at him with what he could swear was an annoyed expression. (His cousin Fred would have laughed at him. ''Owls just look owlish, they don't have expressions !'' he always said, but James knew they could manage one, if they bothered or in his case, if someone mere existence bothered them.)

When he opened the window, the bird took a moment to give him a disdainful glare, maybe lifting its non existent eyebrow, and dropped a letter on the floor, before flying away like it owned the sky. James shook his head in disgust and picked up the envelop.

His name was written on it in a bright green ink, with a lot of flourish and when he turned it... He felt like the weight of the world had just left his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

''Mom ! Mom ! I got my letter !'' James yelled, nearly tripping in the stairs leading to the kitchen. ''Hello to you too, darling.'' Said his mother, laughing softly behind her cup of tea. ''Well that's a good thing. They're awfully late this year, Diagon Alley will be terribly crowded...''

But James wasn't listening to her. Breaking the purple wax seal closing the envelop, he pulled off the letter and handed it to his mother without looking, his mind already on the imminent visit to Wizarding London and, more importantly, the bright future ahead.

He had been afraid to not get in. Well, not really afraid. He was James Sirius Potter. He was never afraid. He was just... Worried. Yeah, that was more like it. Slightly worried.

While eating his breakfast, he wondered for the hundredth time – at least – what kind of wand would choose him, if he would make it to Gryffindor, be good in Defense, enter the Quidditch team and on and on... Until his train of though was brutally interrupted by his mother asking :

"Did you take your potion honey ? You're fidgeting. Are you nervous ?"

"I'm fine mom." He replied, stilling. "I took it before coming down."

"The exact dose ?" She said, searching his face for any sign of anxiety.

James dropped his gaze to his half eaten toast, as if it suddenly was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Yeah."

He heard her take a breath, about to say something, but she was interrupted by his siblings coming down to the kitchen, bickering as usual.

"Oooh ! Look, Al ! James got his letter !" Lily yelled, stealing the envelop from James' lap as soon as she spotted it.

"Hey ! Give that back Lily !"

But his sister took the letter across the room and sat on deciphering the alambiqued scripture.

"So when are we going to Diagon Alley ?" Albus asked, sitting at the table and pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "There's that book I really wa..."

"Shut up, Al, it's not about you !" Said James, kicking his brother under the table.

"James ! Don't talk like that to your brother. And don't think I didn't noticed you kicking him," scolded their mother. "We'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow. Your father won't be working so we can all go together. Now what's that book you want Albus ?"

James rolled his eyes and got up before snatching back his letter from Lily.

"I'll be in my room." He said to... actually no one, since his mother was seemingly engrossed in her nerd conversation with his brother and Lily had quickly reported her attention on her big grey annoying cat, Howie, cooing at it like some old lady over a baby.

"Yeah don't mind me..." He whispered, making his way out of the kitchen and unto the dark hall of 12, Grimmauld Place.

They hadn't always lived here. He knew his father wasn't really fond of the place and didn't thought it appropriate to raise children. But  _something_ had happen to their old house when James was five and they had moved there. It was supposed to be only until they found another one, but Harry and Ginny where both busy and James liked the house, and Kreacher was just  _thrilled_ to be back there so they had stayed and now none of the Potter children would have accepted to be moved.

He passed the tightly shut drapes covering the portrait of Walburga Black, winked at the severed heads of House Elves in the stairs and made his way up to the top floor, where his and Albus' rooms were. On his door was a parchment with "J.S.P" scribbled on it. It was covering a plate saying "Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black" that no one had been able to unstuck. It seemed like half of what was on the walls and doors of that house had been put there with the help of Permanent Sticking Charms. His father repeatedly said that he would change the door itself but like many other things, he had always been to busy to actually do it.

The room itself had been green before the Potters made the house theirs, but James' parents had covered the walls with purple ("The color of magic," his mom said every time he asked her why she'd chosen a thing in purple when there was dozen other more tasteful choices available). The bed, the wardrobe and the desk were massive things that had probably been there for ages, but James liked them. They were sure, tangible, unlike like those muggles furnitures that seemed so cheap and breakable. 

He jumped on his bed, bouncing on the thick mattress. He clutched his Hogwarts letter against his heart and, closing his eyes, daydreamed about his future.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howie was not planned. I just needed a thing for Lily to focus on and find his name by typing 'stupid cat names'.  
> Idk why but when giving them their rooms I thought of Ginny saying to Harry "You already gave him Sirius' name, you won't also give him his room !" like that could have prevented him to turn up too marauder-y, haha.


	2. The Wand's Choice

 

James woke up early the next day. Too early, he noticed, as he opened the door of his room. The house was quiet, with not even the noise from the street coming in, since the enchantment protecting it was also filtering the perturbations from the outside world.

He went to the second floor's bathroom, took a quick shower and draped himself in a towel before going up again. He opened his wardrobe and stood there, wondering. Muggle clothes or wizard clothes ? Granted, there was not a lot of differences those days. Wizarding fashion had done a lot of catching up during the last decade. They had discovered the use of zippers with delight, even if they sometimes put them in the most improbable places and they came to life a lot more often than what was necessary. Still, wizards stayed adamant on wearing robes. And boots. And weird caps. And dragon hide was still the most prized material, whatever laws people like his aunt Hermione tried to pass in order to protect magical creatures. James laughed quietly at the memory of his uncle Ron indignant response at his wife suggestion that he used synthetic gloves to play Quidditch.

It would definitely be too hot outside to wear robes, so he settled on dark jeans and a red tee. Stealing a glance at his reflection in the mirror beside the wardrobe, he run a hand through his messy hair. A great thing when you were Harry Potter son was that you didn't really need to do any effort on that side, people automatically assumed that you had inherited the family's wild mane.

A knock on the door made him jump slightly, followed by the voice of his mother.

"James, honey, time to wake up !"

"I'm up mom !" he replied before picking up his Hogwarts letter where it had fallen next to his bed.

He was about to follow his mother downstairs when he remembered his potion.

Sighing deeply - he  _didn't want_ to take it, but odds were that he would need it today - he picked up the bottle of flashy green liquid that sat on his desk and, unscrewing the lid, poured a bit of potion in it. 

"Yerk."

It didn't help that he had to drink it for as long as he could remember, the taste was still horrible.

 

* * *

 

His father was sitting in the kitchen when he got there, reading the _Prophet_  , a cup of coffee in his hand. James was already asleep when he had gotten home from the Ministry the evening before - or maybe early in the morning, who knew ? Harry had always been a busy man but it seemed like he was barely home those days. James didn't know why. His father was Head of the Auror Division and as such, was dealing with pretty sensible cases. Not the kind of thing you want to tell to your kids. James understood that, but he was also curious about what was keeping his father away from his family. He had tried to do his own researches, but there was no rumors of dark mages or gruesome murders anywhere. Not in the  _Prophet_. Not even in the  _Quibbler_.

"Hey son." Said Harry when James sat next to him at the table. "Excited much ?"

"Hello, dad." Replied James. "I'm just happy the letter finally came."

He had been excited waking up but now he was just feeling a mellow contentment at the idea to spend the day in Wizarding London.

"How was work yesterday ?" he asked in the hope of glancing a bit of information about the mysterious cases his father was working on.

"Same old. Tiring." Harry yawned, as if on cue.

A loud bang resonated in the house, cutting short all tentative to ask for more. James, Harry, and Ginny - who was making eggs and bacon - all tensed up, waiting for the screaming to begin. At the general relief, nothing came, Walburga staying silent. 

"Looks like the new spells are holding up," said Ginny, resuming her cooking. "Jamie, would you go and see what that was ?"

 

* * *

 

 Turns up it was Kreacher. The old elf had once again tried to drag some old Black relic from the attic, a massive silvery carved box, to put it in the drawing room. Sadly for him his power were declining with age and the thing had dropped on the ground floor as he was trying to hover it over the gap between the two flights of stairs.

"What is that Kreacher ? Wow, looks like it's really heavy, it even cracked the tiles..." said James, examining the box.

"It's Mistress Belvina's box. Kreacher thought it would look good on the table beside the chimney."

"That's where mom has her family photos Kreacher."

"Oh really ? Kreacher didn't remember."

"Yeah." James snorted. "Anyway, who is Belvina ?"

"She was Mistress Walburga's great aunt, she..."

"What was that, James ?"

That was Albus, coming down from breakfast, Lily on his heels.

"Just Kreacher dropping things. Come on, let's get breakfast."

 

* * *

 

It was nine and already hot outside. On the front steps of number 12, the Potter linked hands, Harry then James, then Albus, Lily and finally Ginny. Everything went black as they disappeared, the pressure of reality increasing, almost unbearable, and the non-world they passed through spun around them.

James open his eyes, not even knowing when he had closed them. They were in the Leaky Cauldron backyard.

"Let's hurry," said his father, letting go of his hand. "We're meeting Ron at eleven thirty. It'll be great if we're done by then. But we're going to buy your wand after lunch," he added, turning to James.

"Really ? I wanted to get it first !" James pouted. He had waited for this moment since forever. Why did he have to wait  _again_ ?

"You never know how many time it will take. Remember, Jamie, it's the wand that chose the wizard, you don't just come in and pick up the prettiest one."

"Okay, okay, I get it."

"So can we go to Flourish and Blotts first ?" Albus asked.

 

* * *

 

As his mother predicted, Diagon Alley was crowded. The narrow street was packed with Hogwarts student of every ages, along with their parents and siblings. They quickly went in and out of each store, trying to avoid the attention as much as possible, but weren't really successful.

"Maybe we should have ordered," said Ginny. Without being as famous as her husband, she had to stop to sign a handful of autographs herself. Her days as a professional Quidditch player were maybe over but everybody remembered her as one of the best chasers the Holyhead Harpies ever had and her articles were one of the highlights of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Maybe, but we still would have had to come for James' wand," her husband replied, in between two shakes of hands with two overexcited wizards that were old enough to be his own grand-fathers. "And we don't get to go out in family very often."

"Aren't they getting tired of it ?" asked James from in between them. "I'm pretty sure this guy with the yellow hat already get some stuff signed by you last time we came."

"I wish they would get tired. So, what's next on the list ?"

"The apothecary."

"All right, let's go."

They made their way to a shop that looked brand new compared to those surrounding it. The wooded, carved facade was painted a bright sky blue and the sign over the door proclaimed "Deslyn's Draught" in equally bright yellow letters.

James entered the shop first and was saluted by the tall, blond witch who stood behind the counter.

"Oh, hello, Mr Potter ! Come to replenish your stock ?" She said with a grin and a wink.

"Hello Ephriane. Nope, it's school supplies today."

Ephriane Deslyn was the proud owner of Deslyn's Draught. Her business was fairly new - eight years, a blink of time in comparison to the other shops that were settled in Diagon Alley - but the quality of her products had quickly established her supremacy in her domain.

"Well he still needs to 'replenish his stock'," said his mother, coming in after him.

"So it's already your year, hon ? How time runs fast. Well I'll let you browse while I'll go get his draught."

James looked around the shop. Thankfully, they seemed to have come in between two waves of clients so there was nearly no one in the shop. Just a blond boy with his obviously muggle parents. The couple looked at everything with worried eyes while their son was examining every item with a fascinated expression on his face.

They quickly assembled all the supplies he would need, plus some things his parents would use for the house. Ephriane came back behind the counter with a wooden case contemning a dozen of vials. They paid and, finally, they were free to go to Weasleys' Wizard Weezes.

 

* * *

 

They didn't enter the shop, which was full to the brim with students stoking up for the upcoming school year. Ron was waiting for them on the steps. Lily ran to his uncle, half knocking him off his feet.  Ron picked her up and came to meet them.

"What took you so long ? I was about to catch fire under this heat."

"Our hordes of adoring fans," replied his sister, rolling her eyes. "Come on, let's go the the Leaky Cauldron, I'm so hungry I could eat a hypogryff."

"I could have swear it was my line," said Ron, squinting his eyes. He turned to Harry. "How are you, mate ? Any progress with... the thing ?"

"What thing ??" the three Potter children asked at the same time.

"Merlin's beard Ron ! It's nothing. It's a work thing. It's boring, let's go eat."

James squinted at the adults who were now exchanging news about their respective families and work anecdotes while walking down the street before him. So... There was definitively a thing. A Thing. With a uppercase "T", if uncle Ron's tone was to be believed. 

 

* * *

 

 

Lunch was pleasant and uneventful. The owner, Hanna Longbottom, had a strict policy of "no harassing the Potter family" in her pub so people kept their distances while they were eating. 

Halfway through his plate, James began fidgeting, playing nervously with his food and catching his mother's eye.

"Did you..." she began, only to be cut short by her son.

"Yes mom, I did ! Don't worry, I'm not gonna faint !"

"Alright..."

Truth is he was beginning to get nervous. He looked at the others. They were all finished, his father and uncle talking about ex classmates, his brother reading his damn book and his sister doing whatever girls her age could possibly do under a table.

"Can we go now, dad ?" he said to his father. His voice sounded whiny even to his own ears, which aggravated him even more and he nearly let fall his fork to the ground.

"You haven't finished your food James."

"I"m not hungry. And you said it yourself, it could take some time. And there must be a lot of people buying wands. So can we go now ?"

His father looked at him for a moment, visibly pondering the issue.

"Alright," he finally said. "We'll meet you at the shop, ok ?" he added to his wife and brother in law, eliciting pleased sounds from Albus and Lily, who were both  _dying_ to test the new products.

Father and son got up and, leaving the cool shadows of the pub, went out under the sun to buy one of Ollivander's famous wands.

 

* * *

 

 

 One hour later, James still didn't had a wand.

"They are all like dead wood to me. Why doesn't any of them work for me ?" he whined, discouraged.

"Be patient Mr. Potter, one will chose you."

The boy looked up at the old man. He still wasn't sure he wasn't actually a ghost. Well, he could touch stuff, so he probably wasn't, but he looked like he was only a few hours away from dying. His hair were as silver as his eyes and his skin was pale and taunt over the sharp bones of his face and hands. James could see that he was trying to be reassuring but he was buying it less and less.

"But what if mine isn't here ?"

The old man open his mouth to say something but was cut by the sound of the door bell. A tall man with a severe face, clad in stern looking robes entered the shop, followed by a boy seemingly the same age as James.

They haven't even closed the door that multicolored sparks erupted from one of the discarded wands on the counter. The boy gaped at it, his grey eyes opening wide, and James was sure he saw a blush creep on the boy's pale cheeks, as if he had just received the most wonderful compliment – and it was the case, James thought. That wand, after rejecting him, was obviously extremely happy to see the newcomer.

"So, I suppose that's settled." Said the man, his eyes going from the wand to his son.

They all turned toward Ollivander who, unexpectedly – wasn't he the expert here ? - was showing a quite surprised expression. Putting a hold on himself, the wand-maker said :

"Oh, very well. Mr. Greengrass, I recall ? I presume this young man is your son."

"Yes, sir, I'm Alexander Greengrass.'' Said the boy without detaching his gaze from the wand.

"Well young Mr. Greengrass, you've been chosen by a wand made of vine wood with a dragon heart string. Vine wands are quite rare and known for choosing their partner as soon as they are near enough to sense them...'' Ollivander explained, picking up the wand to bring it to the boy.

He received it almost reverently, and the wand emitted a feeble light for a few seconds.

Mr. Greengrass payed the seven Galleons the wand cost and saluted courtly before making his way out.

Ollivander turned again toward James, saying :

"Now Mr. Potter, shall we continue ?"

But James wasn't listening as he was focused on the exiting boy, burning with an ardent jealousy for the one who have been chose by an exceptional wand as soon as he stepped through the shop's door while he has already spent an hour trying all sort of wands and was probably gonna end with something shitty - if not with no wand at all.

Just before the door of the shop closed behind him, the boy turn his head and, returning the glare, shot him a twisted smile.

 

* * *

 

"I swear he looked _evil_ dad !" James said again, waving his spoon without paying attention at the drops of ice cream he was sending pretty much everywhere around him.

They were seated in the more quiet corner of the Leaky Cauldron, taking a break from the wand testing. Wand after wand, James had grown more and more irritated, the feeling aggravated by the ever present memory of the boy who, he was sure, came to this world specially to make him feel rubbish. At that point, he had even been grateful for the distasteful draught his father made him gulp down as soon as they were out.

''What make you say that ?'' Asked his father, taking off his glasses to wipe away some ice cream. ''And please stop with that spoon, Hannah will have my hide if she sees that mess.''

"Sorry," said James, putting down his spoon. "But he smiled at me, and it looked  _evil_."

"I'm sure he just  _smiled_ , James. He was probably trying to be friendly. You're just mad because he got his wand real quick."

"Well," James humphed, crossing his arms in front of him, looking away.

"Don't worry, yours will find you." 

''But what if I am a Squib, dad ?''

''You're not a Squib, Jamie. You're going to Hogwarts School of _Witchcraft and Wizardry_ , remember. They don't take Squibs.''

''But what if they've made a mistake ? I don't recall having ever done a single magical thing. How can you be sure ?''

''You've done magical things, James, you just don't remember it or they seemed normal to you. I've never told you ? I had _no idea_ there was something different in me before Hagrid came to fetch me. I just assumed things like that happened to everybody.''

''Well I didn't noticed anything like that _at all._ And I barely leave mom's sight or yours." _When you happen to be home_ , he though but didn't said. "You would have told me if I had done something, no ?''

''You did things, Jamie. Before we came to live in London.''

''Why you didn't tell me ? What I've done ?''

''I didn't know it was so important to you,'' said his father with a little smile. ''Well, you blew up things, mostly.''

''Oh. That's... cool, I guess ?'' said James, crunching up his nose, not knowing if he could rejoice openly about breaking stuff.

''Er, depends on the what.'' Replied his father, visibly rehashing not so happy memories.

 

* * *

 

 

When they went back to the shop, there was a man with his daughter. Both were blond, with green eyes and annoying faces - at James humble appreciation. Appreciation which was apparently shared by his own father, who nearly pouted - like a frigging child - at the man's sight.

"McLaggen," he said.

"Oh, hey, Potter." The man said with a grin even more annoying than his face. "Is that your son ? Hey, kid. So you'll be in the same year as my daughter, right ? Say hello, Leona."

"Hello," said Leona, quite grumpily as she was putting down a non-fitting wand.

"Try this one," said Ollivander, handing her another one.

James nearly decided to quit - the shop, Diagon Alley, his life - as the wand reacted to the girl, but the rassuring hand of his father on his shoulder grounded him, both in place and in his resolution to not give up.

"Alright, let's try again," said Ollivander as soon as the McLaggen were out. "I gave it some thoughts while you were out and maybe something a little less common would do."

The wandmaker went to the back of his shop and came back with a metal box. He oppened it with a silent _Alohomora._

"Less common ?"

"I think the wands have trouble tapping into your magical core." James heard a strangled noise coming from his father, but didn't gave it a second thought. "So maybe this..." Ollivander rumaged a bit in the box before pulling a thorny looking wand. "... will work. Now the wands in this box are experimentations and I normally don't sell them but..."

He handed the wand to James.

"Here. Blackthorn wood, dragon heartsring _and_ unicorn hair."

"Isn't that a bit... Conflicting ?" Asked James' father.

"Normally, but I take proud in my abilities Mr. Potter. If my suspicions are right, it should help."

James eyed the wand suspiciously. It looked mean. The wood was dark and the little thorns that littered it from the end of the handle to an inch or two of the tip looked like real ones - blunted and polished for sure, but real noneless.

Taking a deep breath, James put is hand on the unusual wand.

And there it was. The flow of power he had waited all his life to feel.

He didn't even noticed the sparks that were erupting from the tip of the wand, dark red and silvery white. His thoughts were turned inward.

As James was clutching his wand like a life-line, finally relaxing a bit – the wand helped a lot, diffusing a warm feeling, inciting him to take large calming breaths – he didn't saw Ollivander take his father aside, the two men wispering words with worried expression on both of their faces.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god. What have I done ? I don't know what is the Thing !!! I mean, there is a thing Harry will work on but it wasn't planned to appear until... Many chapter later. Is it the same thing ? I don't knoooow.  
> I was laughing as I wrote in McLaggen. FYI his daughter was supposed to be in this later but I couldn't resist writing him there.

**Author's Note:**

> Howie was not planned. I just needed a thing for Lily to focus on and find his name by typing 'stupid cat names'.  
> Idk why but when giving them their rooms I thought of Ginny saying to Harry "You already gave him Sirius' name, you won't also give him his room !" like that could have prevented him to turn up too marauder-y, haha.


End file.
